Stockholm
by Ikiruko
Summary: Snape kidnaps Hermione, but Hermione soon finds her loyalties changing.
1. Kidnap

Stockholm

By Ikiruko

- DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter etc. nor do I claim to. J.K. Rowling does. -

For the first time in his life, he felt reckless. He'd felt intense emotion before, but always kept control of it, stayed calm and cool. Not tonight. Tonight, the man stepped back and the animal ran rampant. He was on the run tonight.

The rain poured through the evening twilight, flashes of lightning illuminating the sky now and then. The water reached his ankles, but that didn't matter. He had to find her. It had been so long since he'd known the sweet touch of a woman, and he wanted it tonight.

He remembered Lily Evans, the sweet perfume of her crimson hair, her creamy skin, her spirited green eyes. So full of life, until he took it from her. He remembered her tonight. He was letting go tonight.

He was pretty sure they were staying at the Burrow. He saw it up ahead, towering precariously, standing out against the darkening sky. She was there. He could almost smell her now. How surprised she'd be to see him. He couldn't get her face out of his head. He stood still and let the icy rain shower him, but it couldn't wash it away. Oh, how he'd tried to drink her away, to sleep her away, to push her away, but he couldn't. Two faces swam in the puddles before him, standing on a wide, winding dirt road, a large house and trees in the distance and nothingness all around near him. He covered himself in a silky, cool, shimmering cloak just in case and turned on his heel.

He found himself inside a dark, musty closet. Peering through the door, he discovered to his delight that he was in the right room. Stuffed animals and pink bedsheets met his eyes. He particularly liked the latter. He figured they'd be eating dinner right now, but he could wait. Nearly seven years now he'd been waiting. He'd been watching her all this time. She was loyal, sensible, and had an intellect to match his. He was just hoping she had a wild side. There was a full moon tonight.

He heard footsteps up the stairs, and opened the door a bit more. Ginevra walked into the room, long red hair swinging behind her. Oh, how she looked like Lily, but she wasn't whom he desired tonight. Hermione swept into the room, and graciously rested on her bed. The girls chattered, and Snape felt himself growing impatient. They turned around to undress, and he knew it was time. With a wave of his wand, Ginevra was gone, and she wouldn't be returning for a while.

He shrugged off the cloak. What was the point of wearing it now? It'd only get in the way, and he wanted her to see him. Lightning flashed through the window, and he saw her shudder delicately. He could make her forget her fears tonight. He eyed her creamy white back, pointed his wand at the door, and whispered an incantation. No sounds would escape the room tonight. He charged forward, grabbed her arms, and turned her to face him. He was in awe of how beautiful her body was, but he'd get to that later. Right now, he needed to take control of her.

A few incantations later, she was immobile on the bed, her brown hair resting on the pink bedsheets. Tonight was all his.

She awoke sometime in the early morning, sobbing. She felt him there, and lost control. He was delighted to find she was awake, and so the morning became his.

The sun was just beginning to peek through the window, and though he wanted to stay here with her in his arms, he knew he couldn't. He dressed, and she desperately tried to move. With a wave of his wand, she was unconscious, and he dressed her as slowly as possible, savoring each moment. He kissed the tears from her cheeks, and held her in his arms. With a spell, Ginevra was sound asleep on her bed, and with a crack, they were gone.

He had a little house. It wasn't the fairytale castle his precious princess deserved, but at least she was his now. While she slept on a moldy couch, he remembered the Vow he'd made with Narcissa, the Vow that had led to his exile and the death of the one person who'd believed in him, the Vow that was responsible for the way he was feeling now... In a flash of anger, he grabbed a nearby vase and smashed it on the floor. Hermione whimpered and sat bolt upright, clutching the musty blanket he'd wrapped her in. He flew to her, comforting her, but she sobbed even harder. He was disappointed. The whimpering figure below him wasn't the spirited, bright girl he'd idolized. She was weak and pathetic. He told her this, hoping she'd become angry, but she kept crying into the couch. He went to make a bit of breakfast.

It was storming again, the sound of thunder crashing through the windows and the sky a dismal grey. He loved this kind of weather. He loved feeling the power of the storm, as though the sky could open up any minute and unleash its fury. Hermione refused to eat the toast and treacle he'd manage to scrape up, and couldn't breathe for crying. Sitting across the room in the darkness from the girl he'd made passionate love to all night long, he felt awkward. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. She was his, everything was supposed to feel perfect. Instead, he just felt weird, knowing that a young girl was in agony because of what he did to her. He felt disgusting. This wasn't the plan at all.

The Weasleys would surely have noticed her missing by now. He wondered what they were going to do. They might suspect him, but they'd never find her here. He'd certainly have to hide her from the Death Eaters whenever they came to call; they might expect him to hurt her. He had to protect his princess.

And so days went by, Snape taking care of Hermione and Hermione choking on tears. She was far too devastated to fight back, her spirit ashamed and in hiding, her mind too traumatized to think. But one morning, when he went to rouse her, she slapped him. She screamed for him to get off her, and jumped off the couch. She had to go somewhere, but where? Snape was standing by the door, there was no way he would let her leave. She just wanted to be alone. She ran to the hall, him behind her, and she managed to get into the bathroom and slam the door just as he reached for the doorknob. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" She vomited several times into the toilet, and ran a bath. He hadn't touched her since the first night, thank god, but the shame and filth had never gone.

Sitting in the hot bath, eyes burning, she thought about going under the steaming water and never coming back up. But through the teardrops Harry and Ron's faces swam into view, and she knew she had to escape somehow. Remembering how Snape had killed Dumbledore and fled with the Death Eaters, she was filled with fiery rage. Remembering his hands on every inch of her, his body inside hers, she knew she'd never be whole again, but she had to try and get back as much of herself as possible.


	2. Turning

He pounded on the bathroom door, but she ignored him. She needed to think about this, and find some way out. There was no way she could slip past him and run away - he was with her constantly. She couldn't Disapparate, he'd told her already that he'd placed a protective charm on the house. She might try to gain his pity - she'd cried for days on end and that stopped him raping her, maybe if she kept it up he'd let her go, but she doubted it. Or maybe she could gain his trust - pretend she liked being with him, that she wouldn't want to run away, so he'd let her be on her own. She didn't know if she could do it, but it seemed most likely to work. The thought made her lean over the side of the bathtub and retch.

... "I love you, Granger," he said, cuddling her on the couch, rubbing his hand up and down inside the threadbare bathrobe he'd given her. She said nothing. She felt sicker than she could ever imagine. She quietly gave him the afternoon.

Days passed, then weeks. She was bored out of her mind - she never did anything except sit on the couch all day, occasionally go to the bathroom, and give herself away at night. He would go out every once in a while, securely locking the door. She wondered how long it would be until he'd trust her. Maybe never. They couldn't go out together - surely Harry and the Weasleys would be searching for her. Or maybe they'd forgotten her, just assumed she'd join the ranks of those dead at Voldemort's hands. Harry had to find the Horcruxes anyway - he didn't have time to wait around for her to turn up. She was supposed to have helped him. She cried into the darkness.

He began taking her out in public, binding her close to him with an enchantment and covering her with an Invisibility Cloak. She would've gasped aloud at the types of people he was meeting if he hadn't Silenced her with a charm. He couldn't play his double agent role anymore; he was an ultimate traitor to the Order of the Phoenix, and had to travel in secrecy, meeting Death Eaters at night in shady pubs.

TO BE CONTINUED. Reviews are very much appreciated. I'll probably add more tomorrow.


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